We Pay the Price
by iridescenceoflove
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this.


**Endgame spoilers!**

**I'm still not over this. **

* * *

The feeling of victory is far from truly being near, but there is a small sense of it as they transport back to HQ.

It feels nice to know you still have your whole body intact and you aren't some morphed lump of particles or dust.

But Steve still has to look around and do a check on everybody, for his own peace of mind and anxiety, as well as the others'. Having friends suddenly vanish before your eyes is something they know too much about.

It's easy to spot the obvious, Hulk, Thor, Tony…

Clint.

But there's no Natasha.

Natasha.

And he's afraid to speak, to voice his growing suspicion, his heightening panic. He doesn't know if he _can _speak.

He simply looks and Clint, imploringly, with that tiny bit of optimism that he's supposed to have, so maybe he doesn't have to ask the question. Because she's maybe okay. She has to be okay.

But Clint looks wrecked, saddened, angered, horrified, and so many other things that it'd be hard for anybody to name exactly the look on his face.

So that panic that had been seeping into the pit of his stomach is spreading throughout his entire body, like a toxin that can't be stopped. He knows, _knows _the answer.

"Natasha…" he whispers.

And it really is a whisper, so much so that the others wouldn't have heard it if it weren't so damn quiet at the moment. They all know too.

Clint looks up at him, straight in the eyes and seems to suck in a breath, like he's trying to gather whatever resolve he has left inside of him. It's even worse now, because Steve sees in full force, the awful sorrow, hurt, and overwhelming guilt in the man's eyes.

"She did it," he answers him, and he clenches his fist that has what Steve doesn't even want to acknowledge.

Everyone knows what Clint means by that, and Steve would've noticed the ripple effect of grief that passes over the rest of them, but he can't focus anywhere else but Natasha's best friend, standing in front of him, near tears.

Steve swallows thickly and nods in acknowledgment, because he doesn't know what to say.

Clint takes a step towards him. "It should've been me."

He's knows he should comfort him, tell Clint no, relieve some of the guilt that he knows is just drowning him. Because he thinks the same thing, in the back of his head. He feels awful admitting that to himself, but it's unstoppable. He _wishes _it had been Clint. He's grateful, so grateful that they didn't _both _have to do it, but no, she's gone, and nothing changes that.

"She wanted to do it," Steve says.

It's not a question. He knows—knew—Natasha, her selfless heart and will to do the right thing, her never ending loyalty to her friends. It was her choice, he knows this, and doesn't doubt for a second that Clint tried to give himself up first and kept trying all the way to the end.

"She wouldn't let me do it," he looks down, and he sounds bitter.

"Because she's Natasha." Tony speaks quietly. "She wanted to go on her own terms, by her own choice. She chose to sacrifice herself, and died a hero."

Steve can still only nod. He always forgets that Natasha knew Tony before they all got together in the first place, even if it had been under different circumstances.

"She gave me these, and she didn't have to explain," Clint says after a beat or two, using his other hand to shove into one of his pockets.

In comparison with the dirty and grimy fingers holding the chain, the dog tags look extremely clean and shiny. Clint holds it up carefully, as if it's a delicacy that could break.

Steve takes it like it is.

He remembers when he had given them to her in the first place. Or really, when she had stolen them from him, and he decided they looked better on her anyway. She always wore them under her clothes since that day.

"Thank you," he says as he rubs a thumb over the small metal plate.

"She loved you. Even if she never got around to say it."

"I know," he stares at the chain in his hand for a moment. "I wish I'd told her."

"She knew too, Steve."

He's already lost half of his friends, his comrades. But losing her feels worse than that. Because she was his best friend. His partner since the beginning. He loved her.

And now they've got to go try and avenge those other half—along with the universe. And he'll be damned if they fail, if _he _fails, because he refuses to have her pay the price for nothing. They're going to finish it.

Because when they undo what Thanos has done, he'll always remember her sacrifice for it.


End file.
